Footprints of Thunder (49 page)

“Petra, I’m sorry, but I … my chest…”

“It’s okay, Dr. Piltcher. Don’t speak. I think we’re all right here,” Petra answered reassuringly, but not believing it.

Petra scanned the meadow looking for Colter or signs of danger. If she hadn’t been so scared she might have noted the details in the landscape—the still, blue lake in the middle, surrounded by clumps of towering leafy trees along its shore. The bright green sea of swaying meadow grasses hid the wrinkled turf.

Taller, forest green bushes dotted the clearing as far as Petra could see. She looked from left to right for a hiding place or a way back to the RV. The lake narrowed on the south end and a finger of the lake ended in a stream. Whether it fed the lake or drained it, Petra couldn’t tell. But along that stream were large moving shapes—quadrupeds like the one that destroyed the RV and killed Dr. Coombs. They were still a long way off, but it was clear they were coming closer. Petra felt trapped. She feared running back into the brush because the dinosaur that had chased them was there somewhere. She was too afraid to head toward the approaching herd, but if they cut across the meadow away from the herd she could be inviting attack. Besides, Dr. Piltcher wouldn’t be running much farther today.

Petra could see only one choice. She urged Dr. Piltcher to his feet, took his arm, and led him toward the trees along the lake. They would climb a .tree if they could. Otherwise they could swim for it, although she had no idea whether dinosaurs could swim or not.

Dr. Piltcher padded along next to her, Petra supporting him when he stumbled. As they ran, Petra kept watch on the approaching herd. They showed no signs of attack, or even of notice. At the first tree, Dr. Piltcher sat with his back against the trunk, his hand on his chest and his head down. He was breathing easier now, although still ragged.

Petra walked around, trying to find an easy tree to climb. Similar to poplar trees, these had branches covered with thousands of round leaves. When she found it she returned to help Dr. Piltcher to his feet. He let her guide him, his strength and spirit left behind with Dr. Coombs.

Petra’s tree was on the edge of the clearing near the lake. The lowest limb was just out of her reach. She knew she could jump to it and pull herself up, but Dr. Piltcher couldn’t, even if he was feeling well. She tried boosting him up, but he was too weak to grip the limb. After their third try Petra let Dr. Piltcher slip to the ground and rest while she trotted along the edge of the small stand looking vainly for signs of Colter. At the far edge of the little wood, she was shocked to see the dinosaurs had nearly reached the lake and were fanning out along the shore, coming closer. Hiding behind the tree trunks, she shrank back when she saw them. Petra’s eyes riveted on the massive set of horns—images of Dr. Coombs impaled flashed through her mind. Urgently, she dodged from trunk to trunk back to Dr. Piltcher. She had to get him in the tree somehow, or it was the lake.

She pulled the professor to his feet again. His breathing was better now, though his hand was still pressed to his chest, and his face had regained some color.

“We’ve got to climb this tree, Dr. Piltcher,” she said. “More of those dinosaurs are coming, like the one that wrecked the RV.”

“Monoclonius,” he managed to whisper.

“Yes, monoclonius. They’re almost here. I want you to stand on my back.”

“I’m sure George was wrong about them being triceratops.”

“Dr. Piltcher, you must climb on my back.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Petra.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me.”

Dr. Piltcher continued to protest, but Petra shushed him and got down on her hands and knees. The professor stepped up on her gingerly, but his full weight was soon on her back. His boots seesawed across her spinal column, and she had to bite her lip to hold back a gasp of pain. She could feel the older man trying to pull himself up, but he had no strength.

“I can’t do it, Petra. Leave me. You climb up, I’ll be okay.”

“No. Don’t you move, just hang on to the limb,” Petra nearly shouted, and Dr. Piltcher stood still, his hands drooped over the top of the thick limb. Then Petra inched her legs forward and began to push. Suddenly the weight was removed from her back and she collapsed to the ground. She rolled over, expecting to see Dr. Piltcher sitting in the tree. Instead, she found him hanging from the limb, his arms wrapped over the top, and his legs dancing below.

“I’m going to fall, Petra.”

“No!” she shouted, leaping to her feet. She knew she wouldn’t be able to lift him again, so she put her hands on the professor’s bottom and pushed. At the same time Dr. Piltcher used his arms to hitch himself higher on the limb. Finally, his chest worked its way up, and then he was lying on his stomach on the limb. Petra watched him turn toward her, a slight smile on his face—then the smile evaporated.

“Petra, behind you,” he whispered.

Petra turned carefully to see a monoclonius looking down its snout horn at her. Two smaller monoclonius were behind, both with their horns pointed directly at her. Petra was afraid to move. She was pretty sure she could pull herself up, but pretty sure wasn’t good enough. She might not get that second chance. The monoclonius weren’t moving, or acting aggressively, but something that size would petrify Hercules.

The standoff continued for a full minute, then the closest monoclonius walked deliberately forward, keeping its eyes on Petra. She retreated until her back was against the tree trunk. Petra looked right and left, trying to decide on which way to run. The monoclonius was only twenty feet away when it stopped. Then it raised its massive head, pointing its three long horns at the sky. After several sniffs the dinosaur dropped its head, pointing the three mighty horns at Petra, sniffed again, snorted out a spray of mucus, then walked past Petra and out into the clearing. The two dinosaurs behind it followed suit, each pausing to sniff at Petra. Petra held her breath until they were well gone and then jumped up, grabbed the branch, and pulled herself onto the limb. Dr. Piltcher managed to sit up.

“I told you, Petra, they’re vegetarians,” He smiled weakly.

Petra smiled back. She hated to see him like this, weak and dependent. For the last two years he’d been her father figure. It was a symbiotic relationship. He needed his ego boosted by a young admiring female, and she needed some older charismatic man to make up for the father she never really knew. She also knew children eventually become parents to their parents, but she never expected it to happen with a mentor, and not. in such a bizarre fashion. Dr. Piltcher was still smiling at her so she shook her head in disbelief and whispered back to him. “So a vegetarian did that to the RV? Needed a little iron in its diet, so it decided to eat an RV.”

Dr. Piltcher returned her smile, seeming to have more energy now.

“Let’s try to get higher,” Petra suggested.

They spent the next half hour working their way higher into the tree. Dr. Piltcher could manage to climb, but only if Petra boosted him. She was exhausted and Dr. Piltcher complained of chest pains again. He urged Petra to continue climbing, but she refused. Now, they sat in silence.

Petra planned to wait in the tree until the dinosaurs moved on and she was sure the big carnivore wasn’t going to show up. In the meadow, she could see the monoclonius grazing, just outside their stand of trees. Smaller monoclonius were mixed into the herd, obviously much younger—the chest and hips narrower. Trying to pick out mothers and offspring, Petra watched the smaller dinosaurs, but they showed no preference for particular adults. Several larger animals stood off from the main herd, distributed around the outside. Petra decided the larger monoclonius were males doing picket duty, and the dinosaurs herding together were the females, with young mixed in. What she didn’t understand was why the young showed no preferences for a female. There didn’t seem to be any evidence of imprinting. She wanted to discuss the lack of bonding between mother and offspring with Dr. Piltcher, but suddenly every head in the herd snapped up and pointed toward the brush. The monoclonius were combing the wind with their nostrils. Something was happening.

48. Big Bird

Not far from the great year, the old ones will come out of their tomb.

—
Nostradamus

The I-5 Mountain, Oregon

PostQuilt: Tuesday, 3:09
P.M.
PST

C
hrissy Watkins chased after her brother through the rough grass. He was being mean and wouldn’t play what she wanted to. He kept running off, too fast for her. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He was supposed to play with her. Mom said so. And he was supposed to watch her too while Mom found out why they were stuck in traffic.

Rita Watkins was standing with a group talking to a policeman. Chrissy pulled on her mom’s pant leg, but her mom shushed her and pushed her hand away. Chrissy tried listening, but what they were saying didn’t make any sense to her.

“Clear the road? Are you kidding?” the cop asked. “That’s a mountain. It would take a year to dynamite a level grade through that. I’m telling you they’ll have to build around it. They’ll take I-5 right out there into the valley. Just go around this damn thing.”

Some man with a big stomach and no hair did most of the talking.

“You can’t tell me there’s no way through? I’ve got to get to Eugene, and I mean today. Now are you going to get me through or aren’t you? Don’t make me go over your head.”

“I’ll say it again, but this is the last time. You’ve got to head back down the other side of the interstate. Go on back to Medford and wait. We’re checking on the roads to find a way around. You might have to head over to the coast.”

Another man, with a big mustache, came running up.

“Hey, look up there. Everybody look up there.”

Chrissy looked ‘up too. The big people all started talking about how neat it was, but at first Chrissy couldn’t see anything. Then she saw a big bird flying in the sky. At least she thought it was a bird. It was really just a shadow in the sky.

“Is that a bird, Mommy? Is it? Huh?”

“Yes, honey. It’s a big bird. Probably an eagle.”

“That’s no eagle,” the policeman said. “It’s too big. Funny shape to the wings too.”

“I’ll say it’s big,” the fat man said. “That’s got to be a condor. Must be one of them California condors they released in the wild. Wonder what it’s doing up here?”

“Are you sure that’s a condor?” the mustache man asked. “I’ve never seen a silhouette like that.”

Chrissy’s neck hurt from looking up at the bird. All it was doing was flying around in circles at the top of the mountain. She was bored and wanted Matt to play with her.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!”

“What?” her mom said impatiently.

“Matt won’t play with me. And he’s not watching me like you told him.”

“Honey, I’m trying to find out what’s going on. You go tell Matt I said he has to play with you or he won’t get his M&Ms,”

Chrissy was satisfied. Matt wanted his M&Ms. The grownups were still talking when she ran off. The last voice she heard was from the man with the mustache.

“I think that condor is circling down.”

She couldn’t see Matt but knew he was somewhere in the rocks hiding. She ran along the edge of the boulders, peeking around the big ones and looking in cracks. She worked her way along the edge of the rocks and away from the crowd. “Matty,” she called. “Matthew Broderick Watkins, where are you?” she yelled. “Mom says you have to play with me. Play with me or you don’t get your M&Ms.” Matt still wouldn’t come out.

Then she heard the grown-ups yelling. She turned to see them pointing up at the sky.

“Look at that. It’s huge!” someone yelled.

The only thing Chrissy could see was the big bird. It was coming closer and closer. Chrissy was good at picking out shapes. The bird had a long skinny triangle for its head, and two big triangles for its wings. It didn’t have a body, the wings just seemed to come together. As it circled closer Chrissy could see long feet hanging down, with sharp claws.

Rita Watkins watched the condor circling down. As it got closer she realized she had badly underestimated its size. She estimated the bird had a wingspan longer than her living room. She watched it riding the air currents down, never flapping its huge wings, just riding the breeze and the updrafts.

“Geez, will ya look at the size of that thing?” the fat man said. “It could pick up a calf.”

With that, Rita’s emotion changed from admiration to panic.

“Where are Matt and Chrissy?” she asked the strangers around her. Then directly to the policeman she said, “Where are my kids?”

“I don’t know, lady, but maybe we better get all the kids out of the clearing. Birds don’t attack people, but just in case …”

The group broke up and began rounding up children and shouting for others to do the same. Rita ran toward the boulders looking for her own. When the shadow of the bird passed over her she broke into a run, screaming for Matt and Chrissy. Matt popped out behind a rock and yelled, “Boo.” Rita grabbed his arm, barely slowing her stride.